


Trouble

by Lisie



Series: Wyrmblood [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:01:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24145537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisie/pseuds/Lisie
Summary: Our little boy Estinien gets a paper cut and a new hairdo.Aymeric also makes a cameo in this one.
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Series: Wyrmblood [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742200
Kudos: 16





	Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be funny, but it ended up turning into something else. Hope it's still good.

It was late in the morning when Estinien was roused from his sleep by the sun already shining brightly through the small window in the wall. The pillow next to him was empty, and he swung his body around sharply to scan the room. He relaxed; she hadn't left yet - though from her state of dress, he assumed it would soon be time. 

She was staring out the window, her foot pushing against the table, rocking her chair backwards. Her eyes seemed completely misted, her fingers coming up to run across her lips, deep in thought. The fingers of her other hand were rapping against the cover of the book she had propped against her thigh. Estinien lifted himself from the bed, and noticed with satisfaction that her gaze spun to meet him, the cloud lifting as she ran her eyes up and down his scantily clothed body. He leaned against the table next to her, crossing his arms. 

"It's dangerous." He growled. Her eyebrows pulled into confusion. His hand slipped from the crook of his arm to point at her chair. 

"Pffffft." She scoffed, "I think you might be the only person in the world to admonish the Warrior of Light for rocking in her chair."

Nonetheless, she give a final small push with her foot, bringing it back down to the floor with the remaining two sets of chair legs. She placed the book she'd been reading on the table.  
Her eyes were serious, her voice gentle as she continued, "Thank you, for bringing me here." 

The here she was referring to was a dilapidated shack, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere, not even on the maps of Eorzea. Estinien had never shared his secret spots he'd so carefully sought out over his travels with anyone before. But he'd found himself wanting to drag her to them more and more often. This place was particularly tranquil; an abandoned home, Spartan furniture, tucked in a valley with a bubbling brook nearby. And to reiterate the point, so far away from everything else, it left them quite alone in their shared indulgences. 

He smiled devilishly, his voice explicitly suggestive, "It was my pleasure."

Her serious expression faded, and she rolled her eyes.  
"I meant it. I haven't had the time lately - or a conducive environment - to study." Her voice turned to a mutter as she added, "I need to get better."

Study? He asked himself. That's how she improves her skills? He looked to the book on the table with a mixture of apprehension and intrigue. He picked it up and opened it, his eyes scanning the strange symbols on one of the pages. He could read the words, but he couldn't say he really understood what they were communicating. Still, she had expressed interest in his field of combative expertise, so he would like to try and do the same for her. He kept reading, the words starting to make roughly more sense as he continued, before turning the page. 

"Tshhhhhh." He hissed, the book clattering to the floor as he felt a sharp pain from his finger. He glared at the book accusingly as his thumb ran along the injury the mighty foe had cast upon his flesh.  
The familiar sound of her laugh met his ears, and his expression softened as he looked to her. 

Still giggling sweetly, she asked, "Do you now appreciate just how dangerous a book can be?"

He scowled, but that only seemed to fuel her giggles. She leaned forward, rapping her knuckles against the table.  
"Sit properly." She stood up and made her way to her backpack. He slipped back onto the table, seating himself on the tabletop. She returned and stood herself in front of his knees, taking his hand. She tipped it from side to side gently, her fingers lacing his skin before locating the thin - but surprisingly painful - wound. His eyebrows twitched rapidly as she proceeded to delicately wrap a small plaster over the cut. She then interlaced her fingers with his as he felt the familiar warmth of healing magic course deep through his flesh. 

He arched his eyebrows high in surprise. "Was there a point to the plaster?" 

She glared at him as her eyes came back up to meet his, but he could see a faint tinge of pink on her cheeks. She nodded defiantly. He slipped further forwards on his seat, pulling her closer until his nose came to rest against her sternum. He planted a soft kiss on the skin peeking out above her buttoned shirt. 

"Thank you."

He felt the temperature of her body rise and he slid his chin up to check her expression. Her blush was now at full force, threatening to snake it's way down her neck. 

He pursed his lips, frowning in mild confusion. He had no idea how to differentiate what did and didn't make her show such a face. No amount of rolling around on the bed, or creative use of his tongue, had illicited any such reaction, though he certainly wasn't complaining about the reactions it _did_ illicit. She hummed, his own reflection shining in her eyes, her fingers coming up to tease through his hair. Suddenly, an impish smile interrupted her fawning, and he felt a few gentle tugs as she did Halone only knows what to his hair. 

He pushed away from her slightly, a frigid tone of warning to his expression.  
He brought his hand up to his head. Pigtails. This woman had tied his hair up into pigtails. 

"But you're so handsome." She said through her giggles. 

His annoyance dissolved instantly, instead replaced by a cocky smile, his ego successfully placated. He pulled her in again, his tongue rolling over his teeth. 

"I know. But you can't make it worse. Imagine all the other beauties you'll have to fight off if you want to have me."

She gave an over-exagerated pout, "I'll win." 

He smiled. _You will. Yes._

They looked into each others eyes for a time before her eyebrows came up in the centre, sighing.  
"I have to go now."

He felt disappointed - but he too wasn't one to dwell too long in one place. Before he released her, he placed his lips against her chest once more, with a tenderness many would be surprised Estinien capable of. 

****

Some time later, Aymeric was in his residence, currently enjoying a delectable plate of duck soaked in honey. He heard the familiar sound of the windowsill scuff as Estinien so ungraciously entered in through his window. More than used to it, he reached for his wine, intending to wash down his food before greeting his friend. But the wine in his mouth was never destined to make it into his stomach.  
It sprayed across onto his food and the rest of the table, Aymeric spluttering and choking from the shock he had just received. 

Estinien's hair was pulled up on either side of his head, strands of his own hair wrapped delicately around to hold the hairstyle together. Tears streamed from Aymeric's eyes as he struggled to regain his usual calm demeanour; he was trying, very unsuccessfully, to stifle his laugh while simultaneously trying to dislodge the droplets of wine in his lungs. Estinien walked up behind him, giving one hard thump against Aymeric's back, before making his way around the table again to seat himself opposite. He kept his arms tight against his chest as he sneered in displeasure at the wine now splattered across the table. 

Estinien had used a lot of force, and Aymeric fortunately found that it helped to both quell his mirth, and re-wrest control over his breathing.  
He stared for a moment at his friend, completely lost for words - very unusual for Aymeric de Borel. Giving up, he gesticulated with one finger towards his own head.  
To his surprise, Estinien seemed to puff up proudly, his finger coming up to loop between one of the strands, twirling it between his fingers. And he was _smiling._

_Oh._ Aymeric thought, everything clicking into place. _She must have done it_. He leaned back in his chair, using a napkin to delicately wipe away the wine on his fingers. He picked up his knife and fork, pulling them together before sliding his plate to the side. It was incredible how often he seemed to go without food everytime Estinien dropped into his residence - although this time, Aymeric admitted, it was quite his own fault. 

"So I take it things are going well between you and the Warrior of Light. I was a bit worried when you first told me about it - most women inevitably end up throwing you out of windows, slapping you publicly in the square, or other such nonsense. She's sweet and kind, and I'd prefer it if you didn't offend her." 

Estinien scowled. The usual frosty edge to his posture returning. 

Aymeric sighed. "I wasn't trying to admonish you," Estinien seemed to tense up even more markedly at his words. Baffled, Aymeric continued, "I'm trying to say that I'm happy. For both of you." 

Estinien's bristles seemed to retract a little, but he growled nonetheless as he stated, "I'm not sharing." 

Aymeric's eyes widened and he froze as he processed his friend's words. He distinctly remembered a time in their younger years when he had entered his friend's room in the barracks, only to find three or four people drop out of the bed. Who knew Estinien could be so very monogamous. Is he perhaps....? No. Aymeric banished the thought from his mind. 

"Treat her well, old friend. She's already done a lot for Ishgard. And she's lost a lot too. The death of the young Lord must have hurt her deeply." 

"I know." Estinien growled sharply. His eyebrows twisted a little as he looked down to his hand, which was now flicking something stuck to one of his fingers. Aymeric studied it more closely. A tiny plaster was wrapped around his finger, looking particularly ridiculous as those hands were usually so often wrapped around his menacing spiked lance, dripping with blood. 

_Oh dear._ Aymeric thought, as Estinien's features flickered somewhere between serenity and pain as he caressed the tiny piece of fabric with his thumb. His friend is in quite a lot more trouble than he had originally thought. 


End file.
